


Wrapped In Black

by Ceminar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Black Romance, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Masturbation, Other, Self-Harm, Self-cest, Sex Toys, Slurs, Xenophilia, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceminar/pseuds/Ceminar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cronus has his good days, and his bad days. But what happens when his bad days are really bad? He becomes his own kismesis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrapped In Black

**Author's Note:**

> Drabbles and sadness. Still sucking at tags. Sorry if I missed one, but I'm not sorry for what I wrote. *flies away*
> 
> Update: There is now some art from this fic made by Tofu7. [Seen Here](http://tofu7.tumblr.com/post/90930301750/x)

Everyone had there own problems. Everyone had their bad days, their good days, days where they wanted to do nothing but be with those they were close to, days where they wanted to do EVERYTHING with everyone but there was nothing to do. Even in the Bubbles, it was a thing, even if the landscapes in general didn't change. One could stumble into a different one if they wanted to explore, or if they weren't careful enough. Run into alternate versions of themselves, their friends. Most of the others could handle that, the random encounters, the adventure. Doing things with others. But some didn't have that luxury.

Cronus Ampora was one of those that fell into that category. He didn't really have anyone. He had a friend, kind of, but no moirail, no kismesis or auspice, or a reason to have an auspice or auspice for someone. And he certainly didn't have a matesprite. Why, you ask? Because Cronus Ampora was trash. No one really liked him. They might acknowledge him from time to time, Porrim would feed from him, repair his leather jacket if he needed it, or he could get maybe one or two things from Mituna before his matesprit or moirail came to his rescue, but to be honest, he couldn't blame them for wanting nothing to do with him. He was too different. He wasn't meant for the world they had grown up on, Beforus. He had too many issues to live there normally, too much anger.

Cronus was a violet blood for Ancestor's sake! He was responsible for culling every troll that fell under him on the spectrum. It was his job to make sure they were okay. That they were cleaned, fed, dressed. To make sure they were safe. Because for them, to cull meant to care for. And being the second highest put a lot of responsibility on him, with only one person to do the same for him. But she was gone. Had fled to the moon. That meant that he culled other, but no one culled him. He had no outlet for his violet urges, for his anger, his sorrow. He had no one to understand how hard this was for him, or how different he felt.

And the culling culture was the least of his differences. He felt like a completely different... thing. He didn't know what it was at first, but he realized, he should have been a human. He wanted to be human. One of those pale skins, that all had the same blood color, where there were no horns, no fins. Where you didn't cull one another, and everyone looked after each other equally. That's what he should have been.

But laying in his hive- his house, across the couch after being rejected, again, he scowled to himself. He was nothing but an attention seeker, they said. He was a douchbag. An asshole. A fucking tool. No one actually believed they thought he was a human, that he wanted to be, should be. They all just assumed it was his way of trying to get them to acknowledge him. Just like his attempts at flirting. Talk to them, get their attention. If he got it, then sure, he would be nice. Polite. Anything they wanted, he would be. But as soon as he was turned down, that anger would come out. He would lash out at them verbally, in Mituna's case, break his skateboard, but he would never hurt them physically.

And besides, he couldn't blame them. They were right. He was trash. He was terrible. Everything the others said about him was true. And they were right to hate him in a non romantic way. Even he hated himself.

No one hated Cronus, despised him more than he did himself. And that was a sad, sad fact.

“Nothing but a pathetic lump of flesh...” He muttered to himself, sitting up. He had enough of laying down and headed for the shower instead, walking down the hall, past door after door of room he never used. Rooms that brought back memories of his past. His youth. Doors that contained artifacts from his days believing magic was real, to his discovery of humans and his embarrassing collection of their trinkets. He stripped as he walked, leaving a trail of clothing behind.

He was a human in troll skin, or at least that's what he tried to convince himself of. That, if he were with humans, this would all be different. But he knew he would hate himself just as much. Because he had to be different. He had to be.

He struck out at the wall as the water poured over him, hot enough to leave a violet flush across his skin. Hot enough to burn. But he tried to ignore it like he did every time. He wasn't made to handle the hot water. He was made to adjust easily to the cold sea that surrounded his hive. But this was how humans did it, right? They took hot showers to wash away their stress. They took naps. He tried so hard to be what he wasn't that he couldn't stand it.

“Wvant to be human so bad? Fine.” He told himself. He would do everything as humans did. He reached between his legs, starting to rub at his nook. It had been so long since he had gotten off, and humans masturbated all the time, right? So why not? He started to tease himself, slipping a digit into his slowly moistening folds before stopping. “Not there, stupid..” He muttered, pulling his finger out. “You're a human guy, remember? They don't got nooks.” He remembered all the human porn he had seen, had read, and groaned at the thought. At what was to come. He couldn't do it here. He shut off the water, secretly happy to no longer be torturing himself like that, and headed to his block, his room. He didn't even bother drying off. He would just be back in there when he finished.

Cronus shut the door, more out of habit that actual need. No one would bother walking in on him. He didn't get visitors. It was just him. Always just him. He was the only one that could stand touching himself, and even that mileage varied. He combed his hair back with his fingers, rummaging through one of his drawers until he found what he was looking for. A cloth bag, and a bottle of clear liquid. It was hell getting these things, but he had felt so proud at first.

Now he just felt bitterness.

“Vwell? You knowv vwhat ta do by novw.” He glanced over that the full length mirror he owned. Normally, he used it to check himself out. Spend almost an hour making sure his hair was combed back just right, that his shirt fit as snugly as possibly, his jeans impeccable. To make sure he looked as good as he could.

Now, he just stood in front of it, staring at his reflection that scowled back in displeasure. He hated doing this. But he had gloated before how he was so hot, he would pail himself. Well... Mirrors were good for imagining that, weren't they? “I knowv, I knovw...” He told the mirror, taking his his flushed skin, how his bulge was just barely starting to peek out of its sheath, the beads of violet lubrication along the lips of his nook. He couldn't seriously praise his body now. He couldn't even look his reflection in the eye. He just turned, lowering himself to his hands and knees, presenting his ass to the mirror. He didn't look back yet. He already knew how pathetic, how needy he looked.

He wasn't human. His nook was dripping from being displayed like this. His bulge started to slide out more, waving for attention. But he wouldn't give it. He reached for the bottle he had grabbed earlier, snapping open the lid and pouring that cold, slick liquid over his fingers, rubbing it between them to get it to body temperature. He was still warm for that shower, but who knew how long that would last? Lowering himself to his chest, he reached under him, bypassing his bulge, which wrapped itself around his wrist, and his nook, which couldn't help but clench expectantly. No. With shaky fingers, he rubbed against his wastechute, smearing the lubricant around the tight pucker, shuddering as he did. How did they do this? Every time he reduced himself to this, he asked the same thing. How could they stand it? This... this was so unnatural...

He bit his lip as he slowly slid a finger into himself, the tight ring giving with practiced ease as he tried to calm himself. “Come on, Cronus... You can do better than that, kitten.” He growled, squeezing his eyes shut as he forced two more in, just as he had started to adjust to the first an a muffled sob left him. It hurt.... “Doing good so far... You'll make those paleskins you vworship proud if you keep that up.” He worked them, throwing a wary glance back at the mirror, his fins flaring at how... how slutty he looked. He tried to ignore the pain until he pulled his fingers out, panting as he reached for the still closed bag.

“Think you're more than ready for this nowv. The 8EST part of the vwhole thing...” He opened it, and audibly sobbed at the sight. A flesh colored, 7 inch toy, shaped to mimic the real deal as closely as possible, complete with veins and, what did they call those things? Testicles? Yeah. “Come on, get him nice and ready. Open your trap nice and vwide, kitten. Suck it dovwn like a good lil' slut...” He groaned, opening his mouth wide to do as he told himself. He let his tongue drag across the head, wishing for all the world that, like the real thing, it would start to leak precum, let him taste anything other than silicone. He pulled it into his mouth, sucking noisily on the lead, slathering it with his purple tinged saliva before pulling away, moving it behind him. “Wvell?” He sobbed. “Vwhat are you wvaiting for? Come on, babe. You knovw you been wvanting this. After all...” He pressed it firmly against his now stretched entrance, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as the thick head of it popped into him. He sobbed again, but his voice was still steady. Still full of hate. “This is hovw you humans do...”

He squirmed, still pressing the psudo-human bulge into his wastechute, feeling it stretch him painfully. He should have added more lube, but there was no time for it now. No, he would take it, just like this. With his check flat to the cold floor of his room, he spread his cheeks with one hand, the other pulling the toy out of him a little, before rocking it into himself more. As much as he hated this feeling, as much as it hurt him, his nook still clenched, waiting to be filled. His bulge squeezing his wrist hard enough to leave a mark around it. This was wrong. This was so wrong. Trolls weren't supposed to do things like this. They just weren't!

But he wasn't a troll. He was human.

He pulled the toy out to the tip, taking a breath, letting himself think it was over, that it would stop before shoving it in to the hilt, the toy's testicles slapping against his nook., crying out in pain as he felt something inside him tear. But that didn't stop him. If he could pull his own hair, he would have at that point. “Come on, you paleskin lovwing freak. Wve're just getting started. Suck it up.” He looked back as he started to move the toy, forsaking a gentle starting pace and moving it quickly, harshly. He could see the tears I his eyes, running down his face as he cried out in pain, begging for it to stop, but the sight of his nook drooling violet from his poor chute being abused like this, his bulge rubbing against his arm, his stomach, screamed otherwise.

He was enjoying this.

He was enjoying this and he hated it.

He tried to ignore the sight of violet coating the toy as he slammed it inside himself. His blood. He HAD torn something, and it would probably hurt more after he finished, but the pain spurred him on. He continued to berate himself for his supposed love of humans, or their habits their lives, all between pained sobs. What would this be called, if he were a human? Pathetic, probably. Positively disgusting. He groaned. This was unfair. Why couldn't he just be one or the other? Why did he have to be this way?

As it his body was getting tired of his question, his bulge slipped into his nook, forcing itself in as deep as possible, causing him to arch, to spasm. “No, no, you stupid fuck!” He panted, still going to town on his chute as he tried weakly to separate his bulge and nook. “Can't be doing that! Humans don't get to experience THAT!” But he couldn't stop it. His bulge moved in time with his hand, every time the toy was pulled out, it surged forward, stretching his nook to the point that, after he finished, it would still gape ever so slightly. He stopped thinking. His pan was a hazy mess of pain and pleasure and self loathing and hate. So much hate.

He came before he realized what was happening, violet material flooding his nook from his bulge, splashing back out as it retreated. He was crying in earnest now, rocking the toy into himself a few more times, to simulate their completion, too tired to imagine their odd material, their seed, their cum, filling him. He let it fall out of him, into the growing puddle of material under him.

All he could do now was curl up in that puddle of his own material and his tears, hug his knees to his chest as his body shook with sobs and the after math of his orgasm. He hated himself. He hated being this... Thing. Being a human trapped in a troll's body. Hated enjoying himself, every time it came to this.

Hated the fact that he was his own kismesis. Because he was too much of a failure to get a real one. And that fact that he couldn't get away from that, no matter how much he wanted to.


End file.
